The Game
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written based on the Dragon Age Reddit Weekly Writing Prompt: An assassination attempt is made against your OC. Write about how they handle it or their LI handles it. Even after Fen'lath saves Empress Celene, The Game is always in play in Orlais.


Fen'lath just wanted to go home. If she had to attend one more Orlesian fete where she got called a 'rabbit' or 'knife-ear' while being talked around like she wasn't even there, she was going to go insane. So she'd saved Empress Celene from assassination and ended the civil war. If she'd had the choice, Fen would have left Briala in charge all by herself. She was sure that the vapid, masked nobles surrounding her clucking like hens would have gone absolutely mad if she'd done so. As it was, she'd been abandoned to the nobles by Vivienne as soon as Madame de Fer had spotted an old acquaintance.

Solas appeared at her elbow, a gentle touch on her lower back, offering comfort even as he proffered a glass of wine. She smiled and nodded her thanks, taking the goblet. He leaned in and murmured, "The bird sings a song of warning. Real friends only."

The muscles in her shoulders tightened, and Fen lifted the goblet to her lips, breathing out, "Noted."

He bowed and left her in the circle of nattering nobles, immediately disappearing into obscurity by virtue of being an elf who wasn't the Inquisitor. Taking another sip of wine, Fen dipped her head once at Leliana, signalling that the message had been relayed. Food and drink from the hands of the Inner Circle alone.

Bloody blighter, how she wanted to get back to Skyhold, out of the corsets and ghastly hairdos. The maid Vivienne assigned to her must have used at _least_ two pounds of beeswax pomade to get her hair to stay in the foot-high curly pompadour abomination on her head currently. She dared not look in a mirror to see what had been done to her face. It was almost certain that her _vallaslin_ were hidden under layers of muck, as well as her freckles.

"Lady Inquisitor, you simply _must_ come with me to my haberdasher before you leave Halamshiral, it's positively scandalous that you don't have any proper headwear," the woman next to her simpered. Lady Cossette de Farbes, if memory served, and great niece by marriage to Lady Mantillion.

"Oh, hats aren't really my thing, but thank you, Lady de Farbes." Fen leaned away from her just a hair. The woman on her other side, Comtesse Mathilde de Arbonne, clucked her tongue and said, "But you would look so _charming_ with a little feathered fascinator like mine, Inquisitor. If I may."

The Comtesse pulled off her fascinator and placed it against the back of Fen'lath's head even as she tried to wave the woman off. Bodies crowded in as ladies and lords pushed their way closer for a view of Comtesse Mathilde's handiwork, making it impossible for her to squirm away from the fingers already jamming pins into her hair. "Really, Comtesse, it's _not_ necessary-"

"Nonsense, I am happy to show you. Cossette, do you have another pin I could use?" The final pin raked into Fen's scalp, breaking the skin. "There, perfect! The white feathers are a marvelous contrast to the black of your hair, Lady Inquisitor."

"Thank you, Comtesse." Fen's teeth gritted as she bit the words out, patting at the spot where the pin had pierced her skin and glancing down at her fingers, seeing a tiny smear of blood. The other nobles stepped back twittering and nodding, feathers bobbing and masks flashing as they complimented the Comtesse, acting like she had just dressed a display mannequin instead of manhandling a living, breathing person.

Solas's hand was firm on her arm, "I beg your pardon, but the Inquisitor is needed elsewhere."

He steered her away with quick steps, sliding the wine goblet out of her hand and passing it to Dorian as they sailed by. Bull took up position on her other side, muttering, "If it's what I think it is, we have 20 minutes tops before there's too much in her system."

"What?" Fen whipped her head towards Bull, then wished she hadn't. The hallway leading to their rooms spun and wavered in her vision. She clutched at the arm of Bull's jacket and tried to speak around a tongue that felt like it had become wool, yet somehow stuck to the roof of her mouth, "I didn't drink anything but the wine Solas gave me."

"No." Solas spat out the word like it was the bitterest thing ever tasted. "Lady Cossette and Comtesse Mathilde chose a different route than the one we had been given reason to believe they would. Narrow-minded fools. As if killing you now would gain them anything."

"They're not looking for something from _us_ ," Bull's voice was tight, disdainful. "They're trying to impress de Farbes's great-aunt. If you get a reward from her for playing the Game, you've basically won at being Orlesian."

"And doing this now, when Corypheus is still a threat, is when they consider it the best time to do this. They are truly are idiots of the highest caliber."

"Never said they were _good_ at playing the Game."

Solas and Bull's voices were starting to echo, and Fen tripped as the heel of the unfamiliar shoes caught on the carpeting.

"Shit." Bull scooped her up and took off at a jog. "Forgot she's smaller than normal so it'll act faster. Think you can pull it out of her with magic, Solas?"

"I can, after dosing her with a restorative and antidote." The door to Fen's chamber slammed open so hard she heard the wood frame crack, "Set her down here and get that ridiculous hat off her. Mind the pins."

"I _was_ Ben-Hasserath, I know what I'm doing."

"Then do it quickly." There was the clink of glasses and a strong smell of elfroot as Bull deposited her on the bed face-down, quickly pulling out the pins one by one. A loud, long sniffing noise, "Fuck, it's got Tears of the Dead mixed in. Add some of the stuff I gave you when we arrived."

More clinking, then Bull and Solas were rolling her over and propping her up. Solas held a glass of something that made her turn her head and gag at the smell. "I know, _vhenan_ , but you must drink quickly."

Fen choked it down, and relaxed into Solas's hands as they cupped her head and smoothed the grimace from her forehead. "Hush, give me just a moment. You will be weak for a day or two, but you will live."

Soft, gentle magic washed over her and soothed her to sleep as the poison was purged from her.

* * *

Iron Bull departed the room to speak to Leliana. Empress Celene would be told about the attempt on Fen's life. It was likely the two ladies involved would be punished discretely due to their widespread political connections. Solas stalked down the hall to the door to the servant's quarters.

An unassuming brown-haired elf cracked the door open. She tilted her head, "Sir?"

"The hunt begins. De Farbes and de Arbonne."

"Sir." Her eyes glittered with gleeful malice. The door closed.


End file.
